


The Heart that Binds

by ArthurtheGatekeeper



Series: Shapeshifter Au [2]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Implied Forced Pregnancy, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Mind Control, M/M, POV Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, but not to our cast, implied animal death, its like one line about a rabbit but still
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:15:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26379433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArthurtheGatekeeper/pseuds/ArthurtheGatekeeper
Summary: Jaskier was a shapeshifter. Geralt had some idea of what that meant.Then they met Yennefer and he realized he had no idea at all.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Series: Shapeshifter Au [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1901095
Comments: 56
Kudos: 678





	The Heart that Binds

**Author's Note:**

> This is set between the Last Wish and Geralt and Jaskier's Griffin reunion. If you've found this piece and haven't read the first part uuuuh I don't know how much sense this will make. And as I warned at the end of part 1 this gets. Darker as we're discussing the treatment and fate of Shapeshifters as a whole. The majority of this fic is Geralt and Yennefer talking with some minor Geralt/Yennefer implied (but if your here for Geralt/Yen turn around sorry to clutter your tag). Take care of yourselves and have fun.

It was not a good day.

He was so tired and Jaskier was dying.

But at least the mage was powerful. At least there was that.

Whatever the price.

It was not until she leaned over him and gasped that he realized _this was a mistake._

“Whatever the price.” He said again as her heart restarted its rhythm. Having missed a beat when she finally _looked_ at Jaskier. “But from me. Not him.”

She looked back to him. Reassessing him. “How did you get your hands something so valuable?”

She didn’t mean the djinn. “He’s a friend.” He growled.

He knew there were names for what Jaskier was.

Names that the mages that had made them had given. When that kind of magic was new. Known. People like Jaskier had walked behind every upstart mage, sorcerer and druid.

Behind. Never aside.

“A friend?” She scoffed in haughty disbelief.

“From me not him.” He insisted.

Jaskier had been so afraid when he found out. The way his limbs had contorted in terror made him nauseous even now.

“Why didn’t you shift in Posada?” _Why were you going to let them kill you. Kill us._ He didn’t say. Because that would be too much. But he couldn't help thinking it.

“I had total confidence in you.”

“No. You didn’t.”

“I had enough confidence in you.” He lied again. He waited.

Jaskier fidgeted with the strings.

“You don’t shift in front of people Geralt. It’s just not done!” The stench of anxiety rolled off him and he regretted asking the question that had eaten at him for months now. “And what, leave you there to die or spend the rest of my life as Filavandrel fucking pet in some damn gilded cage? I’d rather die.”

Now it was the acid of anger. “Filavandrel wouldn’t.”

“That’s not the point.” Jaskier focused on the crunching dirt below their feet. “I’d rather die a free man than be someone’s _pet_ or some mage’s experiment.”

If it came down to it, he realized with sickening clarity, he would kill her before he let her do that to Jaskier. Even if that meant Jaskier dying.

Jaskier would rather die.

He understood that.

So he wouldn’t let it come to that.

Her beautiful eyes tightened. The eyes of an ugly girl made beautiful but that couldn’t forget the hurt.

He tried not to notice.

“Fine.” She waved him from the room as she began her work. “But remember who saved your pet if he ever has offspring.”

He was forced from the room.

_Unless someone fancies sharing a fish with an old friend._ Echoed in the kitchen as he waited.

_Offspring._

_Rubbing salve on a tumor._

He waited. Because there was nothing else to do.

“Tell me. How did a Witcher get his hands on a familiar?”

“I didn’t.” He told her as he rubbed down with the soap she’d provided.

“Come now. You said you’d indulge me.” She moved behind him. Doing. Something. “I’ve never heard of a Witcher binding a familiar before.”

“I didn’t bind him.” He tracked her movements out of the corner of his eyes. He had given his word. “He was injured when we met. Haven’t been able to get rid of him since.” He hadn’t tried very hard. But also hadn’t been able to.

“Killed his former master then?”

“Unless his former _master_ was a camp of bandits I doubt it.” He leaned back in the tub. “He’s a person. Not a pet.”

She made a noise that sounded like disagreement. “Fishing for a djinn seems an extreme measure to remedy sleeplessness.” She said instead.

He eased. This at least wasn’t about Jaskier. “When extreme measures seem reasonable, yes, I’m desperate.”

He worried Jaskier would be gone when he woke. Was gone. He had almost killed him. Had taken away his shifting with his wish.

Roach smelled like him. But he wasn’t there.

There was the soft sound of a bird snoring.

He opened his saddlebag.

Jaskier. Safe and sound asleep.

For the first time in weeks he could finally breathe.

“That’s an interesting little mutt you have Geralt.” She said as she adjusted her clothing. “I’ve never heard of a familiar that can’t sense magic.”

“Why do you assume he can’t?”

She stared flatly at him. _You imbecile_ her gaze said. “They’re drawn to magic. The more powerful the better. How you even managed to bind him I don’t know much less keep him.”

“Haven’t met very many mages.”

“You best keep it that way.” She turned to him, finished with her lacing. Lilac eyes hard. “Most mages wouldn’t hesitate to claim him. Broken or not.”

“He’s not broken.” She tilted her head. _Yes he is._ “I wouldn’t let them.” Jaskier would rather die. He wouldn’t let it come to that.

“I’m well aware.” And she was gone.

“It’s amazing really. I’ve never seen one with such lip.”

“Don’t talk about Jaskier right now.”

She laughed above him. “I’ve been looking into it. Met a few others. None of them had that _fire_ that yours does.”

“Yenn.” He snapped his hips and she gasped. “Not now.”

“Oh fine. Spoilsport.”

She flipped through a tome. He poked the fire. “Do you think one of his parents was humanoid? That might explain the intelligence.” She smirked. “Fumbling as it may be.”

“Why do you think shapeshifters are unintelligent?”

She paused. A frown forming as she glared down at the text. “How many familiars have you met?”

“Just the one.” He thought. It was rather difficult to know. Mages and druids had an instinct for it. Witchers didn’t. It wasn’t important.

“I’ve met half a dozen now and read plenty of studies on them. They’re not intelligent.” Her gaze unfocused and he shivered. “If you’d seen them you’d know that.”

“Is his parentage really the only difference you can think of?”

The room chilled. “Are you suggesting we’re doing it?”

“Where did all the shapeshifters go Yennefer? Didn’t every mage used to have one?”

“What happened to all the Latawiec Geralt?”

“Their territory was reduced and they were hunted to extinction.”

“Shifters are a dying breed, going the way of the Latawiec. We can’t make more of them anymore and they can’t reproduce on their own.”

“Jaskier doesn’t seem to struggle with that.”

“Which is why it’s so important to find out why he’s different Geralt!” Her hand making sharp contact with the desk. “Every year a few more of them just _disappear_. Do you want that to happen to him? Do you really want him to be the last?”

His gut twisted. “He wouldn’t.”

“Be the last? Give it a few decades and he might be.”

“Disappear.”

She exhaled slowly. “We don’t know why they disappear Geralt. It usually correspond with their mage using all their chaos and you barely have any. He’s at real risk. I am trying to help you.”

“I won’t let you make an experiment out of him Yennefer.” He growled back.

“I am trying to help.” She snarled in response.

He saddled Roach and road out that night, anger still boiling under his skin.

Yennefer paused from their planning. Looking around the bar. “Where’s the bard?”

He cast a sweeping view of the space and shrugged. “Probably upstairs.” With someone.

“You _do_ remember theirs’s a mage in this town right Geralt? You can’t let him just wander off.”

“He’s not a _dog_ Yennefer.” Except when he was but that wasn’t the point. “I’m not going to keep him on a leash.” No matter how many cuckholded spouses it might save them from.

She glared at him. Grabbed a clump of Jaskier’s fur that was stuck on his shirt. It was shedding season. Closed her eyes, hands glowing faintly.

“Ugh.” She dropped the hair and the spell at once. “He’s fine.”

He took a sip of his drink. “Told you.”

He. Was very drunk. He could admit that. To himself.

Jaskier walked down the bar. Tail twitching under his nose. “Jaskier.” He smiled after him.

Jaskier kept walking down the bar. Ignoring him. Which was rude. Why was Jaskier ignoring him?

He followed after him. “Jaskier? Jaskier did I do something wrong?” He did that slow blinking thing Jaskier always loved when he was a cat.

Jaskier watched him for a moment. Blinked back.

_That’s how cats say I love you Geralt!_ He remembered Jaskier explaining once. He didn’t cry. But it was a near thing.

Jaskier headbutted him.

He scooped him into his arms. Petting his soft fur. He loved when Jaskier shifted into something soft.

Something in Jaskier’s belly shifted.

He moved his hand down to feel it. “Oh Melitele.” He cursed her specifically.

Kittens.

He lifted Jaskier to look at him. “How did you get pregananant?” He asked him. He wasn’t panicking. Or crying. Jaskier hissed at him.

He pressed him into his shoulder. “It’s gonna be okay Jaskier.” He tried to comfort. What were they going to do with kittens? When had Jaskier even? He fumbled through his pack for the xenovox. Calling out to Yennefer.

“Jaskier’s pregnant.” He sobbed into the xenovox. “Please Yennefer. I’m not ready to be a father!”

“Aw Geralt. You’re going to be a great Dad.” Jaskier said. Pressing his forehead into his shoulder.

“Yennefer please!” He begged as he pet Jaskier’s fur. 

The little thing fizzed. “He’s PREGNANT?” She yelled through the machine.

“Kittens Yennefer!”

“What? Fuck where are you? Don’t let him shift Geralt! He shouldn't be able to but- When did that even happen- oh Gods Geralt.”

“We’re at the nine cat’s bar Yennefer.” Jaskier helpfully told her. “Who’s pregnant?” He asked.

“You are!” He cried.

The line fizzled for a moment. “Geralt you said kittens.”

“Mmhmm.”

“Jaskier?”

“Mhm!” He chirped over his shoulder.

“Are you a cat right now?”

“No. But I am veeeery drunk. You want some?”

“No. Is Geralt holding a cat?”

“Yep!”

“Don’t call me again.”

“I can’t believe you got so drunk you thought Jaskier was pregnant.” She laughed.

If Jaskier was here he’d point out this wasn’t the first time he’d mistaken a too friendly dog, cat or even bird for him. He might have even pointed out how sometimes he let their dinner go because it looked too much like Jaskier.

But Jaskier wasn’t here so he didn’t point any of that out. “You believed it.” He pointed out instead.

Her face twitched. “He’s a shapeshifter. It’s plausible.” 

“He’s a man.”

“Just because you don’t make him shift doesn’t mean others can’t.” She took a sip of her drink. "Magic can make them do just about anything."

“What?” Her implication too horrible to follow.

She stared into her glass and didn’t answer.

“You said if he ever had offspring.”

“I wouldn’t suggest it now Geralt! I thought a mage had.” She didn’t finish the thought.

“You said they couldn’t breed on their own. Is that what you meant?” His teeth were bared.

“I would never do that to him. He’s _different_.”

“Are you sure?” He advanced on her. “Are you _positive_?”

Her eyes focused behind his shoulder. “Geralt those creatures can barely think on their own.”

“Whose fault is that?”

“It’s just the way they are. Jaskier’s different. He can’t sense magic.”

“He responds to it.” He didn’t know if Jaskier could sense magic but he reacted to it. Drawn to cursed or enchanted items. The way he’d behaved after the banquet with Pavetta. “How do you _know_ he’s different.”

“He is.” She said. _He has to be._ He heard.

“But if he’s not.”

Anger boiled under her tightly manicured control. “What would you have be do Mr. Don’t get involved? Fight every mage on the continent?”

He had no answer for that. She had no answer for him either.

“You lecture me on made-up cures for having a child, meanwhile you cheat with destiny to steal one.”

“Every time I’m near you I say more in five minutes than I’ve said in weeks. And I always regret it.”

“No let’s hear it,” She said advancing on him. “You bind a child to this life and a familiar and you take responsibility for neither.”

He matched her step. “He is not bound to me.”

“You say you don’t keep him on a leash. You’re right, you don’t have to. The collar you wrapped around his neck is far tighter.”

“We could held to the coast. Get away for a while.” Jaskier suggested. “Sounds like something Borch would say, doesn’t it?”

Maybe it did. But all he could see was the leash around Jaskier’s neck. Binding him to Geralt. All he could hear in his proposal was a man who couldn’t say no. Who couldn’t leave him.

“Life is too short. Do what pleases you while you can.”

What pleases you Jaskier? He wanted to ask. Do you have any choice in this? If I asked could you even answer honestly?

_Magic can make them do just about anything._

Even pretend to love you?

His throat worked. “Composing your next song?”

“No. I’m just, uh… Just trying to work out what pleases me.”

Could you? Can you? When I’m wrapped around your neck?

He stood.

He had a question for Yennefer.

“How do I break the bond?”

“What?” She stared at him. “Really?” He nodded. “You’re the one who made it. Just. Break it.”

“I don’t know how I did.”

Her scowl darkened. “You don’t have enough magic to properly bind him anyway. Just send him away.”

“I’ve sent him away before!” They were still bound. It hadn’t changed anything.

“Maybe he didn’t believe you meant it.”

Maybe. Maybe Jaskier had wanted him. Wanted this life that they’d created. Shared.

Maybe. Maybe he would be at the bottom. Tucked into his saddlebag. Like he was after the Djinn.

His bag was empty.

Of course it was empty.

Why would Jaskier have ever chosen to stay with him?

Oxenfurt. He had no right. No right to be here. Checking on Jaskier.

He didn’t. He knew that. Jaskier was finally free and he had no right to risk binding him again. Accidentally or not.

He just. He just had to make sure he was okay.

He did his best to quietly ask after him.

The answers he received did not inspire confidence.

Finally he went to the university.

“He took a contract out by the coast this winter.”

“Where?” He asked. Drawing from his deep well of patience and taking a sip of the drink they’d force on him. His patience was, however, running out.

The man opened his mouth. Closed it with a huff. “It was overtaken by Nilfgaard.” A displeased sound escaped him. The man’s face closed off further. “No one’s seen him since he left.”

Frustrating but that didn’t mean anything. Jaskier could shapeshift. If it came down to it he’d just turn into a mouse and hide or a bird and fly away. Hell maybe he’d even swim out of the damn spot.

“Where?” He’d know which area to start looking for him then. Just in case. Just to be sure.

“Master Witcher-“ The man started. He smiled nastily at him. Hopefully making him choose his next words carefully. The man paled. “We received his lute several months ago. If he were alive.” He trailed off.

If he were alive he’d have come back for it.

The chair creaked under him as he fell back into it.

“Where is it?”

“His lute is being well taken care of. He was rather famous. A display case and plaque has been commissioned for it and It’ll be played by the students a few times a year. To honor his memory.”

What good where display cases and plaques? They wouldn’t bring Jaskier back. Wouldn’t fix what was broken.

Hell, they probably wouldn’t even play the right songs.

“Where is it?” His patience for the man running thin.

“It’s being stored in one of the music rooms now. It’s being well taken care of Master Witcher I assure you. Now I know this loss must come as a surprise to you-”

“He would hate that.”

“What?”

“How you’re memorializing him. Give it to me. I’ll. Make sure the right person gets it.”

Someone who preferred playing in taverns to drunkards and who could bend stunning lyrics into raunchy innuendos in the space of a stanza. Someone brilliant and stupid and a cynic that still saw so much good in the world.

He probably couldn’t find a person like that. He wasn’t sure the world would ever have another Jaskier. Maybe he’d ask Essi and she’s tell him someone good enough to carry Jaskier’s lute.

He wasn’t going to leave it for some self-righteous pretentious academics to let Jaskier collect dust on a shelf, only played by people like Valdo Marx. People he would have hated. He wouldn’t.

“No. It has been instructed to the university. Unless you are in possession of a last will and testament that states you are to be the lute’s new owner I cannot just. Give it to you.”

He glared at the man.

“I think it’s time you leave Master Witcher.”

He did.

He wondered if they were surprised when the lute was gone the next morning.

He was tired. His leg still ached. Ciri was hungry. That he could at least fix.

The rabbit stared back at him. Long ears. Brown fur.

Ciri was hungry. The child he’d bound to this wretched life.

Its eyes weren’t blue at least.

He made sure it didn’t feel a thing.

He trudged back towards camp. Distantly searching for edibles to add to the meal. He’d run out of the spices Jaskier had forced into his bag last summer. Aside from salt. He wondered if she’d complain about the lack of variety. Jaskier always did.

He’d gotten her to laugh, to smile, a few times. Jaskier would have had her a giggling mess by now.

Maybe he’d have turned into the ferret and annoyed the hell out of him. She’d have probably found that entertaining.

But he wouldn’t. Because he was gone.

A note rang out.

He ran.

Another note plucked from the strings of his lute. Another.

Maybe- Maybe-

Maybe it had just taken him a long time to get home. Maybe he’d heard Geralt had taken his lute. Maybe if he just ran fast enough Jaskier would be there. Sitting in their camp. He’d look up from the strings of his lute that was already so out of tune and yell at him. And he would fall to his knees in front of him and let him. Let him yell and scold until he huffed a. ‘Fine. Come here you asshole.’

And he’d hold Jaskier in his arms and Jaskier would hold him in his and everything would be okay.

Ciri looked up at him. Startled as he heaved for breath. Jaskier’s lute in her hands.

“Where is he?” He begged of her.

“Who?” Came her now timid and terrified voice.

“Jaskier. I heard him playing-“ He glanced wildly around for him. For that stupid Lark.

“I- I didn’t know it was- I thought it was yours. I was just playing.”

“What?” He couldn’t understand what she was saying. He breathed in hoping. Hoping he’d smell him. Hear him. See him.

“It was just me. There’s no one else here.”

He looked at her. At the lute in her little hands.

His knees fell out from under him. Hitting the dirt. She called his name but already tears were falling.

She wrapped her arms around him. He held her back.

Her, at least, he wouldn’t let go of.

Griffins were dangerous.

Everything he fought was dangerous. But it was important to remember that Griffins were dangerous because he was fighting one right now.

It spat acid at him. He sidestepped out of the way. The ground burned with it.

Arch Griffins where even more dangerous.

This one. This one was unpredictable. It was big and powerful and covered in blood.

Feathers sticking every which way.

Fur matted.

He’d seen lots of Griffins mourning their mates. He’d never seen one fall apart the way this one must have.

It was big and old and powerful.

It was also shit at fighting.

“You’re not much of an arch griffin are you?” It spat at him again. It was easy to dodge its wide arch. “No wonder your mate’s dead.”

_Not much of a Witcher are you? No wonder your best friend’s dead._

It slammed him across the clearing. Screeching.

He forced himself up with a curse. Griffins were dangerous. He had Ciri. He couldn’t afford to get cocky.

It hadn’t attacked while he was down. He watched it. Waiting for it to charge. Attack. Do. Something.

“How long are you going to make me wait?” He asked it.

The giant sickly beast laid down.

Stretched its neck long.

Didn’t move.

He advanced cautiously. Blade raised. Ready for when it lashed out.

But it didn’t.

He stepped around its blood encrusted talons. It’s matted fur.

The contract said it had only ever killed sheep. Goats. A horse once, which had thrown its rider and broken their arm.

The way it had been moving through the countryside he’d expected a youngling. In search of a territory.

He’d entertained the possibility it was half of a pair. It must have been. To have fallen apart like this.

He could understand that impulse.

It was probably just sick though.

He raised his sword. Ready to plunge it in the poor monster’s ribs. _Soon your pain will be over at least._ He offered. _But mine won’t be._

It made a noise.

A pattern of notes.

_Toss a coin to your Witcher._

The blade shook in his grip. He looked to its glazed eyes.

Brilliant and blue.

_Oh valley of plenty._

“Jaskier?”

It- he – trilled.

The sword dropped. It’s delicate silver clattering in the dirt.

“Jaskier.” He buried himself in his thick bloody mane. “Jaskier.”

“Jaskier.”

He was home. Home at last.

**Author's Note:**

> Woooooooh. Hope yall had fun getting some more world building and also Yennefer. She came a long way in those 7 years. The next part (if i get around to it) will be the perspective of Jaskier's mother. I think. Did you think you were getting fluffy bonus content? Sure i Could write more Witchers&Jaskier family time. But i wouldn't hold your breath. I told you things get dark if you leave the warm sun that is Jaskier. But come. Venture with me deeper into the shadows of this world. If you want.
> 
> Also please let me know if i missed a key tags cause. Wooooo dont want people getting hurt.
> 
> Love you. Keep your stick on the ice.


End file.
